


I keep this moment by and by

by Hepzheba



Series: Tumblr ficlets [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, POV Sheriff Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2097210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hepzheba/pseuds/Hepzheba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone's been decorating the Stilinski house for Christmas, just to make Stiles happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I keep this moment by and by

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Christmas fic give-away last year. Beta by Foreverblue-navy
> 
> When I was trying to come up with a title I checked my Christmas playlist and found the song [Wintersong by Sarah McLachlan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tuTWA6SBupY) and I thought it suited so well, I thought it could very well be about Claudia (I think I read somewhere that the song is about Sarah's mom). The title is from that very song.

When John gets up in the morning on December the first, there’s a fir tree stuck into the lawn outside the kitchen window. Well, he guesses it’s more of a Christmas tree with the lights stuck to it and all. He blinks at the tree a couple of times. They used to have a Christmas tree outside when Stiles was younger, before Claudia… They haven’t been able to bring themselves to put up a tree outside since then. But apparently something has changed. John wonders if Stiles did it, but no, the tree wasn’t there when John went to bed last night, he’s sure of it, and he heard Stiles muttering almost all night, doing some project for school or researching mythological monsters that should be just that; mythological, but somehow ended up being very real and all of them were drawn to Beacon Hills.

John wonders if Santa Claus is real, too. A year ago, he would have said  _of course not!_  But now he’s not so sure, because a year ago he would also have said that werewolves weren’t real, nor was magic or faeries (and John could tell you a thing or two about fairies: they were  _nothing_  like Disney’s Tinkerbell! They had sharp claws and teeth and even though they were barely a foot tall could do quite a lot of damage). 

Stiles comes stumbling down the stairs and into the kitchen. He puts on a pot of coffee before he even realizes that John is standing by the window. Stiles blinks slowly, sleepily at him.

“Is something wrong?”

Then there’s an almost comical change to the teenager’s stance, from being half-asleep he’s suddenly fully awake and alert, his whole body tense, waiting for the danger to present itself. It would have been comical if not for the fact that Stiles has been taught to always be on his guard in the last year, that there’s always something bad waiting to happen. John’s heart aches for his son and he wished that he should have raised Stiles differently, maybe he shouldn’t have encouraged caring about others… But no, that’s how Stiles is and Stiles is amazing and he cares so much about others.

“Nothing’s wrong,” John answers and motions for his son to come over.

Stiles frowns at him but comes up beside his dad. His eyes widen and his mouth falls open when he sees the tree outside.

“I… Thank you.”

John feels his eyes sting when he hears the awe in Stiles’ voice, the awe and the delight. If he had known Stiles missed the Christmas tree this much he would have set one up himself years ago.

“Thank you, dad.”

Stiles hugs him and John hugs him back. He doesn’t ask about whether or not Santa is real.

 

It’s on December the sixth when John comes home from work to find the windows and the door being framed in by white Christmas lights. When he stands there, just staring, Stiles’ Jeep comes up and parks beside his cruiser. He hears Stiles getting out of the Jeep and then there’s a one-armed hug over his shoulders.

“It looks great,” Stiles tells him and John turns to him.

As Stiles had been home most of the day, just going out a few hours to help Scott or Derek or some other werewolf with their problems, John thought he was the one to put up the lights. The spark in Stiles’ eyes though, only partially because of the lights on their house being reflected in them, tells John his son had no idea about this.

John follows his son inside the house a while later, listening to Stiles complaining about the fact that Scott dragged him around the mall trying to find something to wear for his date with Isaac. It would seem as if Scott is in on this whole decorating Stiles’ house thing, John muses, because even if Stiles and Scott have been practically (and once literally, thanks to that witch) inseparable since the moment they met, Scott actually can do his shopping without Stiles, especially as he’s well aware that Stiles’ attention tends to wander when the kid is bored and heaven knows he’s bored whenever he’s in the mall. John would be very surprised if Scott actually managed to find something. And that is why Scott must be in on it, there’s no other reason for him to bring Stiles to the mall shopping for clothes. John makes a mental note to thank his son’s best friend later on.

After that there’s something with witches (again!) and Stiles gets two broken ribs and a concussion. Getting a call from Melissa that he should come to the hospital – Melissa reassures him that Stiles is fine, but he should come anyway – is something John never wants to experience ever again. He plans on some loving yelling and maybe some grounding even though the broken ribs and concussion aren’t really Stiles’ fault. When John arrives at the hospital it seems as if Derek Hale has the yelling covered though.

The details of the story are a bit fuzzy, but apparently Stiles threw himself in front of Derek when one of the witches cast a spell. He’s lucky the spell only threw him to the side and Stiles would probably have been fine if he hadn’t landed against a tree trunk. Stiles is pretty fine now though too, he’s yelling right back, his face merely inches away from Derek’s as Derek is gripping his shirt and John wonders if they’re going to kiss. He finds himself being strangely okay with his son dating an older man who has been accused of murder (by said son, nonetheless).

There are no kisses exchanged and John is secretly thankful, knowing his son is probably kissing Derek is one thing, seeing it is another thing entirely. Derek huffs and leaves with Isaac and Scott in tow and John wonders if Derek really gave up all of his Alpha powers – the teens seem to be following him… well, like puppies honestly.

“So you and Derek, huh?”

John aims for casual and knows Stiles would have seen right through it if he wasn’t high on painkillers.

“What?” Stiles asks and frowns at John.

“I’m just saying that it’s okay. But if he ever hurts you…”

He lets the hang there between them and Stiles’ frown deepens (he must have spent a lot of time around Derek, John muses absentmindedly).

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” Stiles says with confidence. “I’m human, he’s not. He just all bark and no bite.”

John frowns at his kid, but Stiles has turned towards the window. John thinks Stiles and Derek might not be dating, after all. He wonders if  _he’s_  the one who’s high on painkillers now and if he just imagined it.

 

John gets some answers three days later, on December the thirteenth, when Scott comes by looking for Stiles.

“Is Stiles dating Derek Hale?” John asks when they’ve established that Stiles isn’t home from school yet.

“No. Not yet at least.”

Scott’s eyebrows dip down and John wonders if he would ever have noticed how people’s eyebrows behaved if it wasn’t for Stiles’ rants about a certain Derek Hale’s eyebrows. John’s quite sure even he understands the language of Derek’s eyebrows because Stiles has been talking about it so much.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Scott says then.

“Huh?”

“The Christmas lights.” Scott waves his hand up in the air even if they’re inside. “And the tree. Stiles really appreciates it.”

“Yeah, I know,” John ends up saying instead of  _if you’re not the one putting them up then who did?_

 

John and Stiles put up the plastic Christmas tree inside on December the twenty-third. Plastic because Scott is allergic and can’t be inside their house for more than a few minutes before his eyes and nose start running. John guesses the lycanthropy probably has cured Scott’s allergies along with his asthma so they could have a real fir, but they’ve always had the plastic tree and the branches that John had to super-glue to the trunk probably bring Stiles more laughter than any real tree ever could.

Stiles hums under his breath as they decorate the tree and John feels his chest constrict painfully when he sees Stiles cradling an angel in his hands. Stiles made the angel together with Claudia the Christmas before she passed away and that Christmas was the only Christmas the angel ever hung in the tree. The ornament itself is ugly with three straws for hair and they had a really hard time getting one of the legs to stuck so John helped and super-glued it stuck. The thing with super-glue though, is that it dries really quickly and the leg is sticking out in an inhuman angle.

They usually just work their way around the ugly angel when they decorate the tree; now though, Stiles doesn’t put the angel back in the box but hangs it near the top and John has to swallow hard a few times to get rid of the lump in his throat. It’s not a goodbye, he knows that, it’s just acceptance, and maybe the acceptance should have come sooner, but it’s here now and John is very glad for his son to finally be able to let go.

He hugs him as they watch the tree. It’s crooked and covered in too many ornaments in too many different colors and the angel is in the middle of all the ugliness.

John has never seen a more beautiful Christmas tree.

 

On Christmas Eve Stiles has invited all his werewolf friends along with Melissa to their home. Stiles is the best chef of the two Stilinskis so it’s no surprise that he ends up in the kitchen. What is surprising though is the fact that Derek barely leaves his side, helping him with whatever Stiles needs him to do, all the while looking as if Stiles hung the freaking moon. Stiles seems unaware of the looks, but gives his own sneaking glances whenever the other is turned away.

“I really like your decorations outside,” Melissa compliments when they’re all seated around the table.

“It’s all dad’s doing.”

John probably only notices because he’s watching the boys closely, but next to Stiles he can see Derek stiffen. He can’t help but smile, so that’s who the secret decorator is.

“The things you do for the people you love,” John says and smiles easily at the others, but in the corner of his eye he sees Derek blushing furiously.

Stiles is as oblivious as always and just beams at him.

 

John manages to corner Derek later in the kitchen. For all his werewolf powers, he seems kind of terrified being alone in the same room as his crush’s dad. John’s quite amused by this, if he’s to be honest.

“How long have you been pining after my son?” John asks, not really bothering to lower his tone because Stiles won’t be able to hear it and the werewolves better already know about Derek’s pining.

“John- sheriff- sir-”

Derek was more eloquent when John accused him of murdering his own sister and John takes pity on the kid, because even if his license says he’s twenty-four, his maturity seems to be the same as Stiles’ eighteen years at the best of times.

“I’m not going to shoot you.”

Derek visibly relaxes and John wonders what the hell Stiles has been telling this kid about him. He puts his hand on Derek’s shoulder.

“I’m going to give you a tip of advice here, okay?”

Derek nods wordlessly.

“He’s just as gone on you as you are on him so you better do something before someone else does.”

Derek nods again, words seeming to have abandoned him completely. John suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. He lets go of Derek’s shoulder and Derek makes his way back to the living room and the others.

“And Derek?” John calls over his shoulder. “Just because I’ve given you my blessing now doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you if you ever hurt him, got it?”

“Sir, I- yes. I wouldn’t-”

“I know. Now shoo.”

Derek quickly leaves and John chuckles and shakes his head to himself. In the living room Derek is sitting next to Stiles on the couch, their sides pressed quite closely together, but he doesn’t seem to have confessed anything. Scott gives John an eye-roll; he obviously heard their exchange in the kitchen. John can only agree with Scott’s silent exasperation.

It’s not until later when Stiles and Derek get up to fix the dessert – well, Stiles fixes the pudding and Derek follows him like a lovelorn puppy – that an opportunity presents itself. They are both in the doorway when Isaac squeals and points to them.

“Mistletoe!” he says and he looks thrilled at the prospect and John can’t really say he blames the kid – he has probably seen even more of his friends’ pining than John has.

“What?” Stiles raises his gaze slowly to the ceiling where the mistletoe is hanging. It’s not real mistletoe – they didn’t have real mistletoe earlier and definitely not now when it apparently can make half the current residents of the house sick. Derek follows his gaze and blanches visibly. Stiles waves his hands and shakes his head.

“No. You can’t be serious- That’s stupid-”

Derek’s gaze flicks over John’s and John smiles at him and nods encouragingly.

“This tradition is just-”

They never get to find out what Stiles thinks about the tradition as Derek’s lips are covering his, effectively silencing him (though John is pretty sure he heard a whimper, but he’s not sure from whom and he fakes oblivion so hard he actually believes it himself). John expected a chaste kiss, just a peck, but of course, Stiles can’t do things half-way. Instead of pulling back, he pulls Derek flush against him, his hands into the other’s hair.

John clears his throat loudly and they spring apart, both boys’ cheeks turning a quite amusing shade of pink. Stiles looks quite alarmed, as if he expects John to pull out his gun and start firing right about now (and really, does John really give the impression that he’s that trigger-happy?)

“Dessert?” he just asks and Stiles nods quickly.

Both boys disappear into the kitchen and return with the dessert forty-five minutes later, their hair tousled and clothes askew.

It turns out to be the best Christmas John has had since his wife died and he’s sure she’s happy for their son finding love on one of the most sacred nights of the year.


End file.
